Laritus House
by Jesry
Summary: Sirius Black is brilliant, attractive, and a doctor. Remus Lupin is an ambiguously psychotic intern. United by a ridiculous mandate, the two must rework their worlds, and concepts of the real, to incorporate the other. SBRL, AU-ish. Updated 7/24/10!
1. Welcome to Laritus

_A/N: Wow. Another endeavor in HP fiction. As for "In My Mind", I'm flattered by the take to it and thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorited, and all that jazz. It was very surprising. But, being that I've taken that off the site, I'm putting up something new. Now, Demonic Duo and I (more like she, really) came up with this idea when we were talking about my other story. We've been brainstorming with each other for a while and I guess it's finally time to post something. So here goes. Thanks to her and the reviewers. But especially her (aren't you just special!)._

**Warnings: **_My stories, all of them, are slash. They have angst, drama, and slash. A nice healthy diet of slash. Expect slashy undertones, possible future slash (most likely), angsty slash, and that goodness. I'll let you know if things ever get graphic later on. Don't count on full-blown porn, though. I hate lemons and fluff. Oh, and also, this is a major AU. MAJOR. I mean, characters stay the same...but don't expect magic and phantasmagoric delights. Additionally, I still wish I could format the way I want to on Sorry about the lack of indentations and such. They'd be there if I wasn't stupid.  
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Chapter One Rating: G. (Or should I say..."K"? -hits over the head-)

**Summary: ** Sirius Black is one of the most prostigious doctors in London. He has a whole lot of things going well for him in his life, aside from the fact that he's bored, hates his monotonous boss and coworkers, has a very limited social life, and has just been assigned to take a youthful French apprentice at work. Suddenly realizing that he's going to be working with someone seven years his junior for a year, Sirius finds himself readjusting his life all because of a nineteen-year-old genius. (and, of course, I'm giving away no more than that!) AU, SBRL.

**Reviews: **Please do. Reviews are fun to read when you should be writing papers and rehearsing speeches. They encourage me to update really fast. As for flames...just don't. Spend your time better. Respect my escape from papers on AIDS, Rwanda, and UNICEF as I would yours. Or better yet, go to and spend your time doing something good for the community.

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the Harry Potter stuff. Don't really want to, anyway. Also, it wasn't my idea to make Remus French. His name just has a French ring, which is probably where whoever got the idea first found it. It really is interesting, the amount of people on here who make Remus French. I was going to mix it up and make him from Spain or something, but I could already hear the, "BUT HE'S FRENCH!" complaints.

Sorry about the A/N. They'll never be this long in the future.

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**Laritus House:**

_**. . . Welcome to Laritus. . .**_

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"Give him a walkthrough, would you?"

Sirius Black jerked out of his trance. "Hmm?"

The other man, dressed similarly in white coat and sterile slacks rolled his eyes. This was his friend. Partner. Joe, was it? And he looked annoyed.

"The interns are here today. You know, the ones _looking for a job_. Yeah. Way to impress." Joe explained.

"Oh." Sirius paused. "So I've been assigned to one?"

The other nodded.

"Bloody hell," he growled. "Did you?"

Joe smiled. "Said I was too busy with the wife and kids."

_Damn your wife and kids._ "What do I do with him?"

"Just go get him from the meeting when they're done and walk him through the place. He knows what he's doing here already." He paused. "Do me a favor and don't show him that _hidden_ lounge in back."

Sirius sighed. "What hidden lounge? You mean the _coffee_ room? The place that has a table, a fridge, and a laundry machine?"

"It's a _hidden lounge_."

"Yeah. Okay. Merlin, sometimes I question whether you're a doctor or a patient."

"Real clever, Sirius. Getting brighter by the second."

"Only for you."

Joe checked his watch, glasses falling down his nose. "Ah. Time to visit dear Dorothy in seventy-six. Delightful." Sirius smiled with sympathy. "Later."

Once his partner was completely out of sight down the wide, clean, and white hall, Sirius ran a hand through his long, blue-black hair and started down the way to this intern meeting (which he had, of course, forgotten about until this very untimely instant).

The room, usually used for electrical therapy, was full of a few foreign chaps and a handful of foreign kids looking for a respectable job. They all were white. _Way to be a little more racist, boss_, Sirius thought with a scowl. "Ah, Dr. Black. Nice to see you here."

"Mr. McKneely." Sirius acknowledged coolly. If only he could be holding an "I Heart My Boss" mug at this instant. If only.

"Let me introduce you to our young graduates," he said. He quickly introduced his favorites, a few American chaps from Princeton, both of whom wore glasses and bore little personality. Then there was a young man from Salamanca, a tired-looking fellow from Anchorage, and a meek French kid who never glanced up from the ever-amazing linoleum floor. "And, as you should know, Sirius, these were the brightest applicants of all the thousands we received over the summer." His boss flashed him another grin, as if to add, "_Aren't they amazing!"_

"Great. Stupendous." He drawled. "If you would excuse me, sir, I've really a headache and wouldn't mind a bottle of aspirin--

"Oh, now, now, _Doctor_ Black! Running away so quickly! You were selected to do orientation, were you not?"

"Huh?" Sirius grunted, holding his head wearily.

"When we _drew names from the hat, _Sirius."

"Oh. Right. Guess so."

Dr. McKneely gave a tight-lipped smile. "Alright, then. I will leave you now to your thorough and exciting tour through the terrain in which will be your workplace! Carry on, Sirius. Be good."

"But…my patients, Sir…"

"Taken care of."

_Bloody bastard. Leaving me here with mathematical and med school geniuses. God. Can't believe I was one of them once. Was I one of them? Merlin, I hope not._ They looked at him expectantly, desire for knowledge clearly shining in their eyes. "Let's go."

Sirius led the pack down the first hall of Laritus House, the home for crazy old-timers and even crazier young people. "This is a hallway. You walk down it to get to the rooms." Sirius deadpanned, grin hidden behind his mass of hair.

He turned the corner and made everybody stop and look in a window. "These are our offices. As in, not yours. Understand that?" He waited. "Good."

"Down this way," he drawled, taking them down another hallway, to many rooms, to the restrooms, to the storage rooms and pharmacies. Thirty minutes passed. He held his temple with his hand. "Any questions so far?"

They just stood there, looking mildly uninterested but feigning determination with a realization of "importance".

Except for that goddamned demented one that kept looking at the floor.

"None?"

One Princeton fellow, a Mr. Young, cleared his throat. "So the rooms on this floor are the only ones we'll be dealing with?"

"Not certainly. That depends upon your progress here, and on your mentors. But generally, yes. The patients down here are much easier to handle and don't do anything too disturbing."

Princeton graduate number two added his two cents: "And who will our mentors be?"

"The doctors," Sirius answered smugly. "Clearly."

Ending conversation, the lecture continued. By the end of the hour, on the third and final floor, Sirius had officially deduced that each and every one of them was a robot in a person-suit. Boring, socially infantile, and, in one case, dreadfully shy and silent, the interns would fit in perfectly with the staff. How…terrible.

He brought them back to his boss and presented them with an overwhelming lack of gusto. "Here." He announced. A silent, awkward moment passed. "I'm getting some Advil," Sirius mumbled. He left the office.

* * *

_(The Office, ten minutes later)_

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"Ah. You've decided to return, I see."

Sirius smiled. "It was a tiring debate, but yes."

The boss sighed. "I had the computer do a random generation of pairings for mentorship while you were gone. Fortunately, somebody got you!"

_Merlin no._

"Now, Remus, you'll find that Dr. Black has plenty of good reason for being our head man here. I'm sure that you'll acknowledge how lucky you are soon enough."

Sirius' gray eyes widened in horror. He got the mousey French one. The linoleum-lover. The one who probably had a pocket protector close at hand. "Bloody hell," he muttered accidentally.

"Excuse me, Sirius?" Dr. McKneely's eye popped out at him with accusation and scolding.

"Sorry, Sir."

His boss stepped aside, revealing the slightly shorter, messy brown-haired man. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted, then!"

With that, he was gone.

And Sirius was alone with…_him_.

Better to just get on with it. He reached out his hand with a sigh. "I'm Dr. Sirius Black."

The other tentatively shook his hand. His fingers were cold and thin. "My name is Remus Lupin. It is nice to meet you. Sir." His English was broken and cautious, either because of a lack of speaking skill of the foreign language, or because of his extreme nervousness.

He just had to ask. "Do you speak English?"

"I do. Sir." His French accent was heavy. "Not that badly, at least." His stare gradually was removed from the ground.

His eyes were amber.

"How old are you?" Sirius asked, taken aback by the youthfulness of his face.

Remus blushed, something of a smile practically coming to his lips. "Everybody's been asking me that today." He found homage for the floor again. "I'm nineteen."

Sirius' mind went blank. "But…you're…"

"A graduate student. Yeah."

His hand went to his black hair again, flustered. "So wait. How does this work?"

"I skipped grammar school when I was little," Remus responded shyly.

_Bloody hell. Leave it to me to get stuck with the gifted one._

"Wow. That's…impressive." Sirius sputtered. He worked the math out in his head. If his intern was only nineteen…that meant that he was…

Nearly seven years younger than himself. And _he_, the great Sirius Black, was supposed to be the genius of this establishment, having gotten a head position right out of grad school! _Guess not anymore._

Sirius felt the aching come back in his brain. "Come on, then. It's time for your first lesson."

He blindly found his way to the coffee room in back, simply assuming that Remus would follow him. "This is the secret lounge."

Sirius swallowed down two more aspirin and sat down in one of the plastic chairs.

"Make of it what you will."

Remus stood in the middle of the small room, appearing lost and bewildered. "A lounge?"

"Yeah. That's what _I _said."

Another minute passed before Sirius realized that his apprentice was looking around the lackluster room as if he'd just walked into Oz.

_Dear god. _

This was going to be interesting.

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TBC... 

Review, please!

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	2. Remus Gets Owned

A/N: You don't even know how sorry I am. This took forever to get right and I was completely overwhelmed during finals week (last week). Thanks so much for the nice reviews, and please keep reviewing. I'm definitely into this story and won't leave you hanging like that again. I, too, am annoyed at myself. On a lighter note, this chapter is pretty long, especially considering that it's only half of the second chapter. I'm not quite done with the second half so I figured that this would keep you happy until I get my mind wrapped around what comes next. Please review!

Disclaimer: Don't own any of Rowling's stuff. There you have it.

Warnings: SBRL (not yet, of course. Hang in there.) AU.

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**Chapter Two: Part One**

_by luermide_

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"Excuse me," Remus Lupin began, frantically looking around for anybody from the internship program. "I was supposed to be here about an hour ago, I'm one of the interns? See, there was this problem with the alarm and…"

The blonde man lifted an eyebrow and gave the kid a once-over as he was attacked by a tsunami's worth of explanations. Remus looked disheveled, to say the least: his hair was mildly rabid with it's own personality, his skin had the pallor of Queen Elizabeth, and his cheeks were flushed with panic. Joe felt some internal calling to pick on the kid, some sort of high-school-worthy urge, but chose to keep his decency. After all, this one _was_ Sirius's. _And Sirius must sure be pleased with him! Late on the first day. Great impression._

Remus was nearly breathless with nervousness. Once he began heaving in explanation with a new fervor, Joe had to intervene. "Look, Frenchie, I'm not exactly sure who you are, but Sirius is in the back room. Tell it to him."

He stared at him in a while, confused. "Where?"

Joe nodded towards the back of the hall. "Oh," Remus said. "Thanks."

As Remus grew closer to the room, his pace grew more and more lethargic. Through the doorway he could see Sirius sitting in one of those plastic chairs, facing away from him. His long, black, ridiculously shiny hair was tied back into a tail, contrasting wildly with his white jacket. Remus swallowed. Nearly there.

"Doctor…Black?" Remus began as he approached the table. He just knew that his cheeks were flushed.

Sirius spun around. "Ah, you're here!" He grinned jovially.

Remus froze as if he was just asked to turn in an essay, which he had not known was assigned. "I'm sorry about being late! This morning I didn't remember the time difference and--

Sirius was hardly taken aback by the onslaught of excuses. "Mr. Lupin, Mr. Lupin…would I be so rude as to scold you on your first day?"

He flashed Remus a smile again, putting Remus in the red-light target of a sniper. He was happy. Remus bit his lip. Too happy.

"I'm sorry," Remus uttered lamely, looking down at the floor.

Silence.

The screeching of the chair against the floor made Remus glance up, which, in effect, caused him to be directly in Sirius' face. _His eyes are silver,_ Remus thought, something strange fluttering in his heart. _Merlin._ Taken aback, he missed most of the fire in those clear eyes. That is, until Sirius began talking.

"I don't care what you were doing at home," Sirius muttered 'lethally'. "I don't care if your house bloody exploded and your cat was melting into the ceiling. I don't care," he continued, "if your dear mother forgot to pack your lunch this morning and you had to turn back to get it."

Remus was paralyzed.

"You _call_, if you're going to be late."

Remus nodded, staring down at the floor unseeingly.

Sirius bent down to Remus' height so that they were eye-level. "You may have been the valedictorian-prodigy-whatsit back in school, but when you're here, you're just another employee. An intern, at that. And," he added, a slight smile turning up his lip, "you're most unfortunately paired up with me. Do you know what that means?"

Remus nodded.

"Good."

When Sirius left the room, Remus followed behind, mortified. There was work to be done, he supposed, and if Sirius Black was really all he was cracked up to be, he would probably learn a thing or two as well. _I guess I have already_, Remus thought, reddening.

"Hurry up," Sirius said, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. "We're behind today, and God knows we'll have to deal with Doris."

Remus shuffled to keep up his pace, only to nearly bump into Sirius, who'd stopped in front of a big wooden door. "Alright," Sirius said. "You watch this time, and try to stay out of the way."

The room was clean, white, and smelled of lime and Lysol. Four beds jutted out from the wall, each holding a senile-looking old patient. Sirius approached the first bed and commenced in talking with the patient about the weather and medication.

Remus watched with minor interest for a while as this went on with each patient, but was quickly distracted. One of the old men in the beds sat straight up and pointed at Remus. He froze (for what felt like the twentieth time that day) in surprise. "That's him, Betsy! THAT'S HIM!"

Remus blinked a few times and lost control of his lungs. _What!_

The man let out a strange, animalistic wail that was like a mix of a bird call and a long "moo". Sirius quickly aided the patient and calmed him down.

"What'd you do?" He asked Remus.

"Nothing!"

The old man looked over at Remus again and pointed. "He stole my radio. It was _right here_ in my room yesterday and now its gone. I know he did it, Betsy. I know it!"

"Betsy", who apparently was Sirius, patted the man's hand and pointed over at a radio on the counter. "Your radio's right there, Mr. Radly. Remus didn't take it."

The man seemed to ponder this for a moment. "He put it back when you weren't looking!" He cried. He glared at Remus with conviction. "Betsy'll get you now! Betsy _likes me_."

Sirius gave his intern a slight smile full of sympathy and continued to console the patient. It seemed to take hours for them to leave that one room, but the minute the door shut, Remus heaved a sigh of relief.

"That was an easy one," Sirius said with a grin, but then put on a face of mock-seriousness. "But you really shouldn't've taken old Mr. Radly's radio."

Remus wasn't sure if he was joking until that charming smile came upon Sirius' face. "Heh.." he sighed.

"Better luck on the next floor."

The next floor, unfortunately, was no easier for Remus. Sirius had delegated him small tasks to keep him busy, like running papers downstairs to his office and bringing the patients water and ice. Remus wasn't upset that he was given something to do. He was actually very glad that he was proving himself semi-useful to the famous Dr. Sirius Black. But, when he wasn't around Sirius, the problems began. Within the first hour of being upstairs, Remus had managed to practically knock another doctor over, lose his I.D., and get suckered into playing checkers with a man who thought he was his son (making him late getting back to work). The day was actually getting worse.

Sirius ignored him most of the time on the first and second floors, but once they reached the third floor, Sirius' attention was all on him.

"Listen," Sirius started. "There's a reason why I told all of you interns yesterday that the third floor was off-limits. The only reason you get to come up here is because of me. So…stay close." Sirius' ponytail had fallen out so much that he'd just pulled the tie. His hair came down over his shoulders, creating a great distraction for Remus.

"Okay," Remus said, heart swelling with the feeling of being special.

Sirius shuffled through his cards. "Today, I'm only going to take you to see one of them. After we're done, you can go on lunch break." Sirius' silver eyes found his. "Believe me, you'll want to get out as soon as possible."

"Who are we going to see?" Remus asked, following Sirius down the eerily quiet hall.

"A guy who killed his family."

Sirius said it so nonchalantly that Remus nearly missed what he was told. "What!"

"It's a strange story, really. Schizophrenic. Few years back started talking with aliens, told him to kill his wife and kid. He told everyone what they would say and wrote down odd things about the end of the world and stuff. Made pictures of the aliens, too. No one took him that seriously, and they didn't even put him on medicine. Year later he shoots his wife and kid in the head and then kills himself at the same time." Remus gaped at him. "Triple murder suicide."

"Why…" Remus began, suddenly feeling weary of his own safety, "is he here, then? If he killed himself, I mean."

"Oh. Attempt fell through. Shot in the wrong spot." Sirius shrugged. "He feels terrible about it."

"Really."

Sirius brought him into the room. A man was sitting up in bed, smiling like a completely normal middle-aged man. "Hey, Sirius! How's it going?"

_Sirius? They're on a first name basis!_ Remus could do nothing more than blink in confusion. This couldn't be the same guy.

"Pretty good. Got someone new with me," he said. "This is an intern I'll be mentoring. Remus Lupin."

The patient gave him a wave. "Nice-looking kid. He from the high school?"

Remus could tell that Sirius was groaning inwardly. "Actually," Remus said softly, "I'm from graduate school."

The man whistled. "Well, you've got the right man, then. Dr. Black is brilliant."

Sirius beamed as Remus nodded. "So I've been told," he said.

"How are you feeling today?" Sirius asked suddenly, clearing his throat. "The new meds giving you any trouble?"

The man shrugged. "I'm feeling okay. New meds always are a bummer. Nurses keep me well-fed though. Can't complain there."

"That's good." Sirius scribbled something on his clipboard. "The nurses haven't told me that you've been any trouble lately, either."

"Of course they haven't!" He turned his attention to Remus. "I'm a charm with the ladies. Right, Sirius?"

The doctor rolled his eyes. "It's true."

"Not to say that Sirius isn't! We talk about his escapades all the time--

"Ahem," Sirius coughed. Remus felt his face getting pink again.

"Oh, come now, Doc. He's a mature fellow. Don't get iffy." The patient patted down the sheets over his legs and continued. "Let me tell you, kid, before you find out for yourself. Sirius has quite the following of young ladies and lads."

_Lads_. Remus' mood soared.

"But I don't date them all!" Sirius recovered. "I don't date, anyway."

"Liar," the man sighed. "But have it your way."

"Good idea," Sirius said. "After all, I'm the one who decides what medicine goes in who's little paper cup. Wouldn't want to accidentally switch yours with Doris'."

The threat was friendly, but Sirius didn't seem to be one to reckon with. Remus had nearly forgotten, however, that the man they were laughing and joking with was a complete murderer and nutcase until Sirius had brought up the subject of medicine again.

"Uh," the man shuddered. "A reasonable threat."

Sirius got to business. "Alright, we've got to get going soon, so remember to take all the medicine today at lunch. No pill trading, alright?"

"Yeah, won't be doing that again."

"Also, if you see Fred, apologize for messing up his chess game." The patient rolled his eyes as Sirius said this. "Come on, if you don't do it, I have to treat him like a baby every single day until he finally understands that it was an accident."

He sighed. "Fine. But only for you, Doc."

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

Remus said goodbye and followed Sirius out like a magnet. Sirius smiled. "This place creeped you out yet?"

"It's unique," Remus admitted.

"That it is," Sirius agreed. "Now, I've got stuff to do, insurance claims and paperwork to look over. Thrilling things like that, you know? You have about two hours between now and the end of lunch break. I think I overheard that the interns are going out to Applebee's or something."

Remus shrugged.

"You should go," Sirius said.

He stared down at his feet. "I don't know."

"Why not? The lunch room here is hardly gourmet dining."

Remus ran a hand through his light hair. "I think I'm just going to eat here. I don't want to…lose my parking space." The excuse was pathetically lame. Remus practically winced at his own idiocy.

"Alright. I'll see you soon, then."

Sirius clearly had bought none of it, but walked off anyway without further complaint. Remus made his way downstairs, remembering that he had no idea where the cafeteria was, or if he'd brought any money with him. He thought, for a moment, that he would just go home and make some Ramen, but then recalled that doing so would conflict with his "must save parking space!" credo. He was stuck.

"Hey, Remus!" A blonde doctor stopped him. "Having fun with Sirius?"

Remus gave a convincing smile. The doctor (Joe?) went on, "Well, that's good. If you're off to lunch, you can eat back with us in the lounge. Unless, that is, you're going with the other interns."

"No, I'm not." Remus felt the life jacket close around him. _Thank you, Merlin!_

"Great, great. Sounds…good. Uhm…so…did Sirius completely murder you this morning?"

Remus frowned. "Practically."

Joe nodded with a grin. "I knew it. Didn't cry, did you?"

_Could have,_ Remus thought. "No."

"Oh. Well, that's comforting. He hates it when that happens."

The floor was, as usual, boring and satisfying to stare at. He hardly noticed when Joe left him to find Sirius.

**End of Part I. To be continued...**

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**_1: Just so you know, that story I told up there about the guy who killed his family because of the aliens? The triple murder suicide? Yeah. That was my friend's neighbor down the street. Thought I'd let you know in case you thought I completely pulled that out of my ass...I'm not that creative. The kid (his son) would have graduated last year.Tragic._

_Please review! I know the ending is abrupt...but that's just because I cut the chapter in half. Coming up next: Will Remus do something horribly embarrassing? Will Sirius snog Remus in a broom closet? Will "lunch" prove to be a real sucker? Can Remus actually look Sirius in the eye for more than two seconds? Will naked patients rub themselves against Remus in an ancient "mating ritual" before Sirius' eyes?_ Only time will tell! Stick with me and I'll figure it out as soon as I can!


	3. Lost

A/N: At this point, I don't know if I should even make an excuse for being so late on the update. I feel so horrible, I can't even describe it (This ultra-guilty feeling is also currently being encouraged by the ever-so-enlightening Munich soundtrack T-T) Thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews. I appreciate every one and try to reply to each. Without the reviews, I would probably not have thought up a neat little plot twist and some cool ways in which this piece can work. This is not abandoned. It will not be abandoned. It might just take a while for updates sometimes. -hides- o-o

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_Laritus House_

Chapter Three: Lost

Lunch, Day Two

If there had ever been such a thing more awkward than eating a chicken-salad sandwich in silence surrounded by loud, chatting adults, Remus would never have known it.

The staff room was a lot smaller when the table was surrounded by full grown men, either sitting or hovering over by the cabinets (it really was a tiny table) whilst munching on their food. Remus couldn't make out much of what they were laughing about, and figured that it was the safest bet to just stay quiet and "lay low".

Unfortunately, he had only gotten through a bit of his lunch before Sirius and his entourage came sauntering through the door in a supercilious fashion. _So this is what the most prestigious doctors in the country do in their spare time,_ he thought with a smirk. Sirius was swinging around with one of his assistants, giggling profusely. His metallic wave of hair shielded his face from the public eye, but Remus didn't need to see his expression to know what it looked like.

Feeling out of place, Remus blushed and stared down at the table (as always, a becoming hobby). He silently willed himself away.

"Just when you thought it would never come!" Sirius began, yanking open the fridge door with much gusto. One of his partners yelped as the door unceremoniously smashed into his knee. "Sorry 'bout that."

Sirius had pulled out a Styrofoam box and was already armed with plastic fork in hand. Leaning against the lavender linoleum countertops, he held himself with a casual poise. Remus could not help but watch him stand there, one foot propped against the cabinets, one hand jabbing a fork into the unknown contents. It was amazing: how graceful and _important_ someone could look during the most candid of moments. Remus' mind buzzed and heat rose in his chest, just watching while chewing absently on his sandwich. Watching. Studying. Chewing. More watching. Simultaneously.

Sirius appeared to be part of a pack: although he claimed to not like these doctors, he melded with them like fire clings to a branch. He laughed and joked with them, flicked his shining hair behind his ear at times, gave a random grin that held unspoken meanings. Even though Remus wanted to fit in and be part of the Sirius Ring of Things, he knew that opening his mouth would be a mistake. It always was. All he needed was to come out of his shy hole and state a nuclear science fact to sign his death warrant. He knew that he had nothing to compete with against these men, these superiors.

Remus' chest burned as Sirius laughed again, bending over, tossing a bit of lettuce on someone else. And then, not knowing quite what to do with these sensations, he tore his gaze away and concentrated on eating: chewing, swallowing, selecting, biting, chewing, swallowing, selecting. It was enough to create the bubble, the one that fended off reminders that he was bloody no good. It was enough, Remus knew, to be invisible.

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Day Three: Morning

"_Raymoo, raymoo, raymoo_," un-French Joe began, clucking his tongue. "Late again." He sighed dramatically, looking over the lithe boy in front of him. "And so, _so_ late indeed…"

Remus appeared as though he did not need a reminder, cheeks still pink from the heavy wind. "Is Sirius, er, Dr. Black here yet?"

The blonde laughed indignantly. "Here? He's been here since seven." Remus visibly paled in front of him. "But…I don't think he's finished morning rounds yet. You could…check upstairs, perhaps?"

Remus was practically already shooting up the flight. He was dressed neatly, although it could be inferred that quite a bit of traveling had occurred on the way to work. The nearer he got to breaking out onto the second-floor, the bigger his eyes grew, like antiqued amber globes. His nose was pink with distress, and as he skipped up the steps in a frenzy, he muttered unintelligible French under his breath.

The hall was barren, but Remus quickly picked up on a voice (floaty, demeaning, and familiar) coming from the end of the hallway. Gasping heavily in both panic and breathlessness, he rubbed his eyes and approached what he knew to be Dr. Sirius Black.

"I thought you would get here eventually. What's the excuse today, wee one?" Sirius' voice drawled, back turned to him as he studied a bulletin board.

Remus felt his throat tie itself into knots. He was surprised (and humiliated) as he managed to squeak out an apology, mumbled and pathetic. Sirius turned to him, and Remus, expecting many a low blow (probably deserved), recoiled. The doctor's gaze, however, was sympathetic. Remus worried his lip as he was scrutinized, insecure.

"Listen," Sirius began, crossing his arms around his white-jacketed chest. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you're one for three."

Remus was silent.

"That's pretty bad." Sirius inhaled and exhaled loudly, perhaps with exasperation. "I don't know how you do it up in France, or what you missed in grammar school, but around here, you've been quite a sore." He lifted his eyebrow skillfully. "Right loveliness." He rolled his eyes with sarcasm. "What do you think that I should do with you?"

Remus had become one giant knot, a knot with big eyes permanently fixed to the floor. He shrugged, paralyzed and ashamed.

"Well?" The doctor prodded, sighing loudly again.

"I don't know," Remus began softly. "Make me clean lavatories?"

A long stretch of silence followed, one so long and thick that Remus glanced up at Sirius to make sure that he was still there. And he was there, ogling at him, reserved and knowing. Intimidation held him with an iron glove and Remus found himself incapable of breaking contact with the other's silver gaze.

"I've gone ahead," Sirius began steadily, "and had you discharged. Your school has been notified, as have the references on your application. The general consensus of Laritus agrees that this is…probably for the best." Remus' jaw had dropped, and the tight knots in his gut were beginning to snap. "McKneely, you know, my boss, wanted me to apologize to you for his mistake." Silence. Sirius worried his jacket seams. "Sorry." He winced. "You can stay the day, if you like."

Remus drew in a deep breath, shocked into oblivion, and started to stutter something out in French. Once realizing this, he corrected himself. "No…I'll, I'll just go now."

As he turned his back, unaware of what goodbyes Sirius was giving him, he felt his entire body begin to shake. But he walked, and made it to the stairwell, before letting those first dreaded tears fall.

* * *

**A/N: Mwahahaha. Don't worry. I know how this is going to work….-pat pat- This had to happen. Review, please!**


	4. Coincidences

A/N: Thanks for all of the great reviews! Luckily for those who follow this, I was bored in school and was, thusly, able to write a bunch out of sheer exhaustion. This chapter really gets the story going, so read and review (so I can update!)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Still.

Reminder: This is AU. No magic, just Remus and Sirius. They are all that I took, so, now that you've been warned, I would really enjoy not hearing a thing about this "not being Harry Potter-ish at all!". Thaaaanks.

* * *

Chapter Four: Coincidences

Remus passed by the same bookstore for what seemed to be the millionth time. After having left Laritus, he began to walk around the city, trying to absorb what had occurred. There was nothing he could do…he could not tell Sirius why he was late, or how this was his only opportunity to be something more…

He had yet to stop sniffling, despite the hours that had passed. The cursed lump in his throat continued to feed his eyes with fresh tears, and his hands were sticky from swiping at them. Shame was not new to Remus, but never before had he been so close to acceptance.

One of the factors, he speculated whilst weaving around the passersby, had to have been Sirius. Remus could not hide the tugging admiration that he felt for the doctor. Even if he was the reason that he was pacing the streets miserably, he also was the reason that he was so upset in the first place. Sirius…he wanted to impress. Remus heaved a sigh. How pathetic.

He finally stopped into the bookstore, welcoming the musty aroma that filled the air and gently calmed him. Very few people occupied the store, thank god, and the keeper must have been shelving somewhere. Remus, feeling as though he had found an escape from Laritus, from Sirius, and from England, settled into a deep chair hidden by plastic shrubbery and oak shelving. He tucked his knees under his chin and curled, like a lithe and slightly emaciated puppy, trying to lose the day.

* * *

"Jesus bloody Christ," Sirius groaned, covering his face with his hand. He had just been getting excited about the prospect of reaching sleep, and _he_ had to be _here _ of all places.

It wasn't that he hated him, or even held a grudge. But this was too much. Night-time confrontations were not his forte, and multiple showdowns a day were murder on his personality.

Remus Lupin, exiled protégée, was sleeping like a wounded cat in the chair outside the staircase to his flat. Innocent and young-looking, Sirius might have woken him and helped him home had he been a complete stranger. But in this case, he would try to move carefully around him, seek the almost-hidden oak door to his left, and escape up the flights in a sprint. Sirius briefly wondered what he was doing in Terry and Flint so late, but let the concern pass quickly. After all, it wouldn't do good to risk waking him.

Taking a last look at Lupin, he slithered over to the door, unlocked it, and flew like thunder towards sanctuary.

His flat was his favorite place to be. After years of searching for the right place, he'd found an ad offering living above Terry and Flint, the esteemed little bookshop. Easily winning the sizable space in auction, Sirius did his best to make the old quarters his own. The floors were naturally hardwood, and having no wall separations minus the bathroom, the elegant flooring carried fluidly throughout the entire place. Granite countertops cut out the outlined the kitchen, which neighbored his office space and living area. Decidedly high-tech, Sirius' wealth was rather represented by his bookstore habitat.

Sirius had not felt bad about leaving Remus downstairs until he melted into his own bed. Surrounded by his heavy duvet and letting the tension work its way out of his bones, he felt strangely guilty. Remus had, after all, been folded into a ball on that old armchair. And having endured being fired after less than a week…

"No," Sirius told himself, speaking into the darkness. "Don't even start." Trying to drift into sleep again, his eyes fluttered shut. However, he just needed to know what time it was…could he really let such a young foreign student lie out for anyone to pray upon at such a wee hour?

"Blast it all," Sirius groaned, swinging out of bed. Muttering obscenities, he combed his hair down with his fingers and pulled a white undershirt over his head. Checking that his drawstring pants were not viable to loosen, he trudged towards the staircase, padded down the steps, and unlocked the door, still scowling.

Sure enough, Remus Lupin was lounged awkwardly in the dusty chair, oblivious to the turmoil in which had caused Sirius to rediscover him. Sighing, Sirius reached out and touched his shoulder, maybe with more force than necessary. Expecting the student to lurch with surprise, or at least jolt a bit, Sirius was shocked.

Remus, hesitantly but fluidly, eased from his odd shape and slumber, meeting his eyes with a slow-blinking amber gaze. "Hello, Sirius."

-------------------

"Hello, Sirius," Remus said slowly, speaking mindlessly as if his mind was still vacant and sleeping. Sirius, taken aback, was comforted when he realized Remus's obvious lack of complete consciousness. "What am I…doing?"

Sirius ignored him and his mindless ramblings. "Come on," he said, helping him to stand.

"Wait," Remus stopped. "What?"

"Where do you live?" No response. Remus was swaying: Sirius steadied him and steered him instead towards the door---his door. "Nevermind. Come on," he repeated. Some voice in his mind reminded him just how dumb that this was.

He watched and walked behind Remus as he trudged upstairs, not hearing another intelligible word until reaching the flat. "Where am I?" Remus asked, rubbing lazily at his eyes. Sirius groaned inwardly as the student started to ramble in his own language.

"English, please," Sirius reminded him, before leading the student to his couch. "And don't expect me to do this again for you." He, trying to not be as frustrated as he'd like to, sat Remus down, tossing a throw over him. With a great heave, he realized that much sleep would not be had this night. Sirius begrudgingly went to the kitchen to boil a pot of tea. Caffeinated tea.

He looked over while fiddling with the stove and noted how Remus just held the blanket, frozen. 'For someone so genius', he mused for what wasn't the first time, 'he sure is lost.' "Where am I?" Remus asked again, sounding a bit more present. "Who are you?"

Sirius almost dropped his mug. "What do you mean, who am I?"

"Oh," Remus said eventually, probably recovering from the bite in Sirius's voice. "Doctor."

"You can stay here for the night. I found you downstairs in Science Fiction and Self-help." Sirius could imagine Remus's expression. "Looked like you were going to stay there all night."

Silence.

Sirius removed the tea bag and took an experimental sip before sitting across from Remus. "Where do you live?"

"Not near here," Remus replied softly. Then something seemed to dawn on him. "I need…to get home."

"It's late," Sirius snapped. "There's no way--

"No," Remus got to his feet, swaying. "It's important."

Sirius steadied the 19-year-old and made him sit again. "Have a pet or something?"

"M-medicine," he replied. "For morning."

"For what?"

"For me," Remus replied, clearly ending _that _conversation.

"Get it then. I can't get you home." Sirius saw Remus's shoulders slump in defeat. After a while of silent evening Sirius moved to bed and pulled his shirt off again. Remus still sat, staring at the coffee table, at a loss.

"I can stay here?" Remus asked, his voice carrying like a whisper.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "For the night." He got into bed, exhausted and tired of doing karmically correct deeds.

At a later point, he heard Remus lie down, and then he let himself go, for some reason, at last.

* * *

_A/N: Whatever could Remus's problem be? Why on Earth is Sirius letting Remus hang out in his flat? And what, honestly, are Remus and Sirius going to do from here?_

_MWAHAHAHAHA...only I know! (sort of). _

_ Review?  
_


	5. Revelations

A/N: Wow. Chapter five is here. This chapter was sketched on a post-it note one night in Hawaii (Waikiki, to be more specific). It's been lodged in HP3 for months, and I've finally had time to write up what has turned out to be _exactly_ what I've been wanting. In many review replies, I have stated that I most often get things done when I take days off because of illness. Well, today I was sick, and look what happened. Review. You're all so good about doing that:D

Chapter Five

Remus awoke feeling…strange. His eyes came open slowly, blinking away the bright morning sunlight. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, foreign: as was the couch that he came to accept that he was lying on.

With a sudden surge, he leapt from his lulled position into a low crouch on the floor. _Where the hell am I? What possessed me to sleep here! _The carpet was clean and groomed beneath him. This was definitely not where he was supposed to be staying.

He remained in that awkward position for a few weary moments, looking from corner to corner of the flat. It was a meticulously kept place: airy and flawless. With a curious wandering thought, Remus realized that this place reminded him of France. France was good. France was gentle. Somewhat settled, he came to his feet and tossled his hair with his fingers.

His eyes fell to the coffee table. A note lay there, scribbled upon a bright yellow post-it. Remus picked it up and struggled to read the rushed handwriting.

_Lupin: _

_Try not to touch anything while I'm at the hospital. I will take you home at noon; you seem to have trouble with directions. I'll know if anything's missing. _

_Don't mess up,_

_Dr. SB_

_P.S. Don't eat my food._

Remus smiled in sudden realization. He was at Sirius's home! Above the bookshop! Memories came rushing back at him in a swift tidal wave. Despite the cold words of the message left for him, Remus was wholeheartedly satisfied with his memory.

Stuffing the note in his pocket, he walked to the kitchen. Above the stove, the clock flashed green numbers at him: 11:00 AM. Eleven. An hour to pass by himself in a strange apartment. Feeling a bit anxious, he began to look around. _'As long as I don't touch anything…'_, he thought, studying the lack of refrigerator magnets on Sirius' door, seeing what few sticky notes were haphazardly slapped there.

Filled with childlike urges to discover, Remus couldn't see the harm in just seeing what Sirius had around. Opening a cupboard couldn't be considered touching something, could it? He didn't give it much more of a thought. Soon enough, Remus had studied the glasses and plates the doctor kept, memorized the colors, the styles, and what went where. He was smirking as he moved to the desk, where few photos were hung and placed about stacks of papers and books.

The pictures all contained the same people: a red-headed girl, himself, and an odd looking man with painfully round glasses. They all seemed happy: at med school, perhaps. Some of the photos had other women and men in them, some of the photos seemed less canned.

It was hard for Remus to not feel jealous.

His eyes continued to wander about the flat, and his feet followed, as he carried about his study of what the famed Dr. Sirius Black surrounded himself with outside of the job. _'Apparently not much,'_ Remus noted. _'Everything's so sterile.'_

And then he came to a book, resting hidden on the shelf below Sirius's nightstand. Remus felt a shiver come through him as he lowered himself to the floor, his back to the bed. His eyes locked on the book which had somehow come to rest in his hands. His mind was blank.

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Sirius couldn't begin to compose words to describe how angry he was. He had come home, up the steep stairs of the bookshop, put his case and coat by the door as he looked to see if Remus was still there. The couch was barren, and the post-it he had left was gone.

He was rather content with the possibility that Remus had left, until he heard a knock come from the direction of his bed. With an eyebrow raised, Sirius carefully wandered towards the noise until he found Remus, more specifically the tuft of Remus's hair that was Remus, curled on the floor against his bed, Sirius's notebook at his side.

"What on _Earth_ do you think you are doing with _that_?"

Remus looked up from his huddle, his eyes dull gold again. "Who are you?"

Sirius gaped. "Not again."

"What again?"

His jaw would not seem to close. Baffled, Sirius tucked a wayward strand of dark hair behind his ear and tossed a small paper bag at Remus. "Nevermind. I picked up your meds on my way back." _Don't know why_, he thought with a scowl.

The ex-intern seemed to have reality knocked back into him. He leapt to his feet, frazzled and panicked. He scrambled to provide a lengthy explanation.

"We're in Britain: speak English," Sirius snapped. Remus heaved, looking a bit lost and sunken.

"Sorry," he translated lamely, massaging the paper sack of medicine in his hands. "And thanks."

Sirius was, to say in the least, fuming at this point. He took off his white jacket and threw it on the bedspread, not knowing whether to kick him out or wonder for his health. It seemed that Remus was both a frustrating little annoying intern prat and yet another patient that needed his assistance.

Weighing his priorities, for the first time, was difficult.

"Put that down," Sirius settled on ordering, too tired to unleash a lashing that would make Mao cringe. He unclipped his ID card from his breast pocket and put it beside his jacket before returning to the kitchen. Remus slid the book back in its place, still not having looked in it, and scrambled to explain.

The lights flickered on in the kitchen nook as Sirius went rummaging through the fridge. Remus decided to drop the subject, to instead put it off until later. The doctor did not look in the right state to handle any words coming from his mouth.

Without thinking, Remus dumped out the contents of his little bag on the counter (nearly sending both bottles tumbling to the floor) and twisted open the familiar everyday container of pills. Being paid no heed, he habitually poured three from the orange barrel into his palm, clicked the lid shut, and closed his fingers around them. Sirius had finally found what he was looking for (a Styrofoam box of who knows what) and dismissed himself to the couch without the slightest curious glance.

Again, without thinking, Remus went to the cupboard, pulled a glass, and used the tap for water. Pills still in hand, he joined Sirius on the other end of the sofa. The older man fixed him with a steely eye. Remus froze. "What?"

The other eyed the glass, and then met the amber eyes again. Remus cursed inwardly. "Why in hell," Sirius began, "do you know where I keep my things?"

Before Remus could invent a frantic response, Sirius held up his hand, which also dangerously waved a fork. "You know what? Don't answer that. Just take the medicine and go."

Sirius flicked on the TV and picked at his meal as if nothing had happened. Remus swallowed in anticipation of some serious verbal beating, but none came. Finally, he settled on taking the pills. With one gulp, all three were history. Finishing off his glass, Remus started for the kitchen.

"Before you go," Sirius interrupted, forcing Remus to sit back down. The teen's gaze settled on the ground as per usual, making him scowl. "I want to know what crazy loon of a doctor has you taking _those_ doses for your illness."

Silence. "You…know? What I have?"

The younger man met his gaze at last, not seeming worried, but comforted. Sirius sighed and settled his box on his lap. "I can guess. I _am_ the world's finest, you know."

Remus shrugged.

"Tell me what happened."

Remus shook his head.

"Don't know?"

Again, a shrug.

"I thought so." Sirius then leaned in, for once appearing genuinely concerned, for once seeming to look _at_ Remus. Remus bit his lip as Sirius's voice took on a completely new tone. "Lupin, you're training to be a doctor of mental illnesses."

"I realize that," Remus said softly, a little put off by the honesty in Sirius's tone.

"When was the last time you were a patient?"

The tawny-haired looked to the floor again and sighed. "Five months ago."

Sirius repressed congratulating himself on the accuracy of his predictions. "And you studied, all the while?"

"I guess," Remus answered, nervous. "My education is legitimate, if that's what you're thinking…"

"No," he interrupted, waving his fork in the air emphatically. "I don't doubt that…after all, my boss is pretty good about selecting our interns."

Remus immediately realized the contradiction in Sirius's words from right then and the day before, when he was fired. His heart, unexpectedly, welled with that temporarily lost pride.

"Why, exactly, did they let you off the hook at the Le Mon center?"

Remus startled at the sound of the name. "Why do you know where--

"Lupin, I know lots of things. Answer the question."

He rubbed at one golden eye. "Well…" Remus couldn't think of a more eloquent way to put it, and to his fright, blurted it all out. "They thought that I was too smart to be held back anymore. They thought that I should just get _out_, that's what most of my teachers thought anyway, my whole life. Just get out and on with it because I was _better_ than them."

Remus was horrified. He tried again, humiliated, only this time with wetness lacing his eyelashes precariously. Sirius gave him a moment, watching the boy compose himself and bring his eyes to meet his gaze. The amber eyes locked on his again, but so boundriless in a new way, without guard and nervousness. Sirius actually had to repress a shiver.

"They gave up on me." Remus said, sounding a bit bitter and a bit wounded. "Everyone does."

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That night, Sirius found himself in bed with his hands resting on his book, his mind full of questions and worries. For once, Sirius had no clue what to do next. So he prayed, hands to book, and asked his friends for help, wherever they were. It was possibly the strangest ritual he'd ever struck. He imagined James and Lily, and their son, guiding him through this situation, maybe with a tad of sarcasm and laughter, probably with a good amount of teasing as well. A smile came to his lips (rare when he was alone), and he put the book back (never opening it, not to look).

As he tucked himself under the covers, he replayed the events of the day, how he had actually tried to reassure the kid he'd fired the day before, the one who had gone against everything he'd said about touching his things in his home. He played over the odd emotions he'd realized when Remus had turned away from him, probably in tears, probably in embarrassment. He winced when he recalled the sympathy he had actually felt.

And then, of course, he had come to accept the fact that maybe the prodigical intern that he had dramatically fired on day three had come into his life not to be mentored so much as to be helped. He did not doubt the boy's brain, but Sirius could not help but be paralyzed by the sheer coincidence of such an afflicted character…a _patient_, being partnered with him.

From the other side of the flat, Sirius was drawn from his reflections by the sound of silence, finally and conclusively, settling concretely throughout the atmosphere.

Remus was asleep.

* * *

...

A/N: Chorus now: "Awwwwwww!" -cough cough- Anyway, now that Sirius has had one pathetic soft moment, let's not confuse his character! XP Nothing's that easy in my stories, anyway. As for you all, thanks oodles for the great response. I live off of your reviews, SO PLEASE DO IT! I know you lurkers are out there…it's never too late! Special thanks to my loyal readers, who've alerted LH and favorited. This is for you guys.

Also, feel free to put in ideas for the story and/or ask questions in your review. I'm an avid review replier and don't mind throwing out a few spoilers to you. :D Next chapter will come someday!


	6. Full Circle

A/N: It has been a long time. Plot bunnies gone, writer's block abandoned. Yes!

**Laritus House: Chapter Six**

* * *

It was still dark outside when Sirius awoke.

Three AM.

Sirius had jolted when the unfamiliar warmth disturbed his wrist (after all, he was not used to having visitors). It was Remus. Beside him, kneeling. "Your hand is on my wrist," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. The tuft of hair accompanying the boyish shadow next to him slowly became clearer. "Go away."

Remus's energy was comparable to that of a Christmas tree. "Guess what?" He asked, golden eyes escaping from the nocturne. Sirius burned him with a solid glare. When such silence met Remus's question, he urged further (fingers tightening on the other's wrist, paying no heed as to what he was doing). "Guess!"

Sirius smoothed his comforter with one hand whilst prying the other free. Gritting his teeth, he checked the bedside clock again. Yes, it was three in the morning. "If you don't get this over with, I'm going to kill you."

Without delay, Remus continued. "Okay, good guess!"

Sirius didn't have time to sputter in confusion.

"No, no. I was walking this morning and I found a field of _goats_, Sirius! Goats! And I asked them if they needed help but they just kept _walking_! But Sirius, I _knew_ that they needed help so I followed them to their garden! And guess _what_?" Remus had rendered his superior speechless. Sirius could only watch as his shadow swayed in the dark, a slew of concern flooding the mind of _Doctor_ Sirius Black. "Well, they did need my help! See, for the past ten years they've been trying to solve this proof and because they don't know multivariable calculus they had hit this rough spot and--

"Remus," Sirius interrupted, jerking upright in bed. "Are you awake?"

Remus blinked owlishly. "Yes?"

"Do you know where you are?" His voice was more concerned than annoyed.

"_Oui_," Remus replied. "_La Maison de Sirius_."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "No. French."

"I'm here," the younger responded quietly. "You're Sirius."

"Right," Sirius acknowledged, deciding to correct him (it was _Dr. Black_, really) at a better time. "And are you awake, Remus?"

There was a thick moment of silence. A floorboard creaked, the hum of the refrigerator boomed. Sirius had to restrain from reaching over to feel the boy's forehead. Finally, Remus answered. "I think I may have been dreaming." His speech was slow and thoughtful. "But...I remember everything."

Sirius resisted the urge to slam his skull back into his pillow. "I know. Kid, you've got to get yourself back into healthcare. I can't do this."

Remus sighed. "_Mais je ne veux pas être abandonné de nouveau_."

"Look, I know '_bonjour'_ and that's about it," Sirius scorned, too tired for insult.

The other apologized. "I'm almost done with school, Doctor." His voice, thick with exhaustion (that initial energy long lost), took on a new desperation. "If I go back, I can't get a job. I mean, I won't even be able to finish for so long..."

Sirius pressed his fingers into his face. "Look, nobody's going to want a loony telling them how to fix _their_ problems, alright? Jesus, look at yourself. You're half-comprehensable when you're awake, and when you're asleep, god only knows what goes on in your head." Sirus sighed. "It'll be worth it eventually. I promise."

Remus had pressed his face into Sirius's comforter, uncomfortably close to the older man's wrist. Breathing heavily, he conceded. "How do you know that you can even help me?"

"Is that an honest question?"

"I guess not. You're the best, I know."

"Damn straight."

Remus's amber eyes flickered in the darkness of the bedroom, their vision since adjusted. "Doesn't everyone hate me there?" His words were soft and laced with distant sadness.

"I might..." Sirius began, considering. "I might keep you on the third floor." Inwardly, Sirius winced.

"_Que?_" Remus interjected. Sirius had to shake the student's fingers from his wrist. "_Non! Je ne suis pas_ _trop_--

"Britain, kid, Britain! Not France!" Sirius took a deep breath. "It would be best. You could stay out of the way of the interns and employees that met you already, and you'd be under only the best of care. Like..." Sirius did not want to propose himself as his caretaker. He did _not_. "Like..."

"Not you," Remus completed quietly.

"Well, when you say it like _that_..." Sirius rolled his eyes. He was amazed at how their conversation had changed over the past ten minutes (what had happened to the mathematical goats?).

"It's okay. I know that it's difficult, figuring it all out."

"What?" He asked, studying the now-profile silhouette of his ex-intern. "I know what you have, and I might even help out with your treatment--

"_Non_," Remus sighed. "You don't know."

"Well, maybe I don't know ­_why_, per se..." Sirius elaborated, confident.

"Sirius. No, Dr. Black," he corrected. "I'm telling you right now that I don't have merely what you think I have."

A lingering confidence permeated the air: a stale taste of hopelessness and honesty. As Sirius's gaze held Remus's, he found his exhaustion wane.  
"In the morning," Sirius concluded, "we will talk."

* * *

A/N: You want to review. Come on, tell me what crap/goodliness it is (I haven't thought about this in awhile and it's late, so I expect some errors). I may fix it up later, but for now I wish to post. :D 


	7. Situated

Chapter 7: Situated

* * *

Remus stared at Sirius across the counter as the receptionist assembled his folder. "Good thing we had all this intern stuff on file, right?" The woman was portly and smelled of dandelion perfume. Remus even saw Sirius react, throwing the woman a look from behind his wall of hair. She stood the manila on end and tapped it against the desk. "There we are. All set."

Sirius mumbled his thanks as she leaned over her massive breasts to tuck the folder in with the other L's. _The crazy L's_, Remus thought. He allowed himself to become transfixed by the pinkness of her scrubs as Sirius assembled the day's clipboard. Suddenly a hand on his back moved him into the main hall. Sirius stalked beside him, his long coat swinging heavily with each stride. "Put these on."

Sirius held a series of white bracelets in his hand. Remus felt his mind break like the Titanic as his thoughts turned into a solid groan. _Non…_

"Whining already?" Sirius asked.

Aloud; the groan was aloud. Remus blushed and took the bracelets, fastening them with his eyes fixed ahead.

As they surpassed the second floor and climbed towards the third (_and final_), the silence thickened. Looking to Sirius, he found a high-arched eyebrow staring back. "Quite the pro, aren't you?"

"What?"

Sirius reached over and tugged the bracelet, his fingers reaching through the breath of space between plastic and wrist.

_He is touching me._

"Oh. Right. Well…I've done it before." _One step, two steps, three steps, four steps--_

The steps turned into a landing; the linoleum was clean and pale, swept and mopped as Remus assumed was done each day.

"Chin up, Lupin." _Loopy Lupin_. "Welcome your habitat."

Remus looked up as a heavy brown door swung open without a sound. The room wasn't white, but certainly wasn't the opposite of sterility. The bed was flush against the far wall, and a desk rested closer to the door. A great space was left in the middle, and there clearly had been no attempt to fill it. The room looked like it'd been a double…once. _Enough space for me to run in circles like a loon_. He felt a small sound escape his lips.

It may have been a whimper.

"Now, I know we didn't talk," Sirius said. Remus recalled the hurried morning: the rush to toast the bread, the switching on and off in the shower, the stuffing of pockets of tissues and keys. He had awoken on the floor at some point way after he should have, his face partially under the coffee table. Although he winced now at the memory of it, he usually found his traditionally awkward and inexplicable wake-up situations to be delightfully exciting. "But don't worry about it." Sirius waved his theatrical hand towards the plain bed in the corner. "Enjoy the comforts of home, the infinite pleasures of housekeeping, the," Sirius had strolled to the desk and was now sliding the chair out from its hiding nook. The chair was short and rudimentary, of an unfittingly dark wood. "--small…chair," he finished.

As Sirius caused a terrible screech in the desk area, Remus walked to the sole window and sat on the sill. He didn't need to be told how thick the glass was, nor that the window didn't open. "Third floor," he mumbled.

"What?" Sirius asked. He was shifting his clipboards and papers around in his arms.

"Nothing." Eyes to the floor, again. He watched his feet swing and tap against the wall.

"Of course," Sirius said. "Well, anyway, what I was saying was that I should be getting all of your documents and charts soon via the lovely Fax, so don't worry about the talk."

Remus felt his jaw go slack.

"For now, Joe's going to be checking in on you. Your stuff should arrive at some point later on." He turned his back, approaching the door all too suddenly.

Remus tugged at his chest, wishing the tension away. He _ached_. He felt the French tumble out in a gushing whisper before he could restrain himself.

* * *

Sirius didn't intend to be moved by big amber eyes full of sad, sad, _sad_ sadness; yet there he spent the final moments of his morning, sitting on the floor (on tile! Doctor Sirius Black, on _tile_!) with the ex-intern.

It was the doctor in him, the genius if you will, that kept him from leaving; and when he finally departed, he waited outside the heavy door until he heard Remus return to the window, the furthermost place from the threshold. Only then did he fix the mandatory lock, but with a slow and rounded turn of the wrist. He hoped that it had been a soundless event.

"Sir?"

Mr. McKneely's office was not so intimidating, yet Sirius found his…_heart?!_ pumping a bit faster than usual as he posed to make The Request. It was lunch hour: even as he stood there with only slight shame of his foolish wants, he couldn't believe how he'd arranged his priorities. He considered the good meat sandwich he'd left waiting in the dangerous land that was the public fridge.

"Mm?" His boss turned in his chair, a bag of Lay's in one hand and a Coke in the other.

Sirius let him chew. He considered leaving.

"I think I know why you're here." Mr. McKneely already had the papers on his desk.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and cocked his chin.

"I was going to suggest it myself had you not come here anyway."

* * *

I cannot believed I updated. What do you think? 


	8. Remus's Brain

Note: This is the first part of a two-part chapter, so you can expect the next chapter to begin right where this leaves off. It's an important POV split that makes this separation necessary, with my exhaustion and slight flippancy at secondary fault. Further, note that this chapter will be confusing, and intentionally so. The title of the chapter should give you some hint to the POV and concept. ALSO, you can just assume that any parts, minus the few moments of legitimate dialogue between Remus and Sirius (you'll see) are to be in French. I'm not even going to try to write it as such, so please bear with me and pretend. ^__^

Thanks for reading! Enjoy the trip.

* * *

Chapter 8: Remus' brain.

In 1982 cows trampled this earth; that's right, this very spot--the house, the silo, all came crashing down underneath those old hooves. You'd think we would have been killed, Remus, you would think. Yet here we are, a family, and it's 1995. Ninety-five. It's been so many years.

The horizon over there, do you see it? Over the hill. Well, that's where your mama was buried. That's where we put her when that old man killed her. Do you remember that? Eighty-five it was. Beautiful day, too: in fact, even the funeral was beautiful. Beauty just followed your mama, beauty just followed her right wherever she went. You used to play in the barn when she worked, I'd see you, and the light would be comin' in thought the slats. Such color that year. Eighty-six, that was. Was the year you went special, like this, see. Always thought it was because of her; just a year later, could have been nothing but her. But don't you be sad about that, now, because all she ever brought this world was beauty.

-

It was a bright morning; the light blocked the rest of the outside world from him from through the window. The sheets were not as warm as the day seemed to demand.

"Remus, I know."

"I read the file."

Sirius walked into his line of vision.

The bed depresses as he sits. His fingers are rough against his cheek. More words, but warmth.

"I talked to my boss."

An arrogant laugh, but his eyes were not the steely grey that he was accostumed to. "It was only because it wouldn't be fair to the others to add a patient to their itinerary last minute; not just a patient but you, all the way up here--

"I'm going to take care of you."

-

"You don't remember anything that happened, nothing at all?"

She was just staring at him, not writing, not reading, not even twirling a pen. Staring.

"Are you sure you just don't want to talk about it?"

She was not frustrated, she understood.

"These episodes that you have, when you switch; do you remember anything moving from one to the other?"

"Not at all?"

" Now, I know of your intelligence, Remus; I don't wish to belittle you. But what you are claiming is not something we are--or anybody, for that matter, is prepared to diagnose."

-

When he called Sirius' name as he was leaving, he did not think that he would actually stop. His long coat indicated his turning. "Please don't." Sirius' voice was just as his countenance: sad, frustrated, anxious. Remus would have said more, had Sirius not suddenly hauled himself out of the room.  
The door clicked into the lock position. He always heard it.

-

He saw Sirius in bed and grabbed his wrist. It was he, Remus, who was talking. The sounds of his words flooded his ears as he listened with intent. He felt nestled deep in the warm place, the reserved place. It was not his turn to talk, but this figure.

"No, no. I was walking this morning and I found a field of goats, Sirius! Goats! And I asked them if they needed help but they just kept walking! But Sirius, I knew that they needed help so I followed them to their garden! And guess what? Well, they did need my help! See, for the past ten years they've been trying to solve this proof and because they don't know multivariable calculus they had hit this rough spot and-  
Gratefulness came when Sirius interrupted him. He pulled and stretched from the warm place, reaching for that first position. He reached for himself and pushed the other back.

"Do you know where you are?"

Oui.

-

"I'm going to take care of you."

"Christ, don't look so depressed about it, I'm not happy either."

"Remus? Are you there?"

1982. Cows, the silo comes down with the rest. The grave stands small and distant; you run at me. You're as tall as you always were, you reach down to put me on your shoulders. We do not speak English, yet there is something wrong, something coming. Your hat is straw, we run to the house. The door gives way to a rush of cinnamon, sweat, dry logs. Running, the bed cannot hide me as well as it used to. It's 1985. The sounds are larger than the sun through the window is bright. You are yelling, she is yelling. Sirius stands beside me and puts his fingers to my neck. I am under your arm as we take for the pasture. There is time to see the red, the red, the red, the red. Your boots brand the floorboards, red.

-

"Remus. Tell me, if there is anything, tell me." Sirius paused. "Or at least tell me if you will promise to try to tell me."

He pulls, stretches, feels how his muscles are just as taut as he thought they were. He pushes.

Je suis; je suis.

He pushes at the obstinate mosaic, the thick film stretched over his mind.

"Je suis."

It breaks, as it does. Sirius is standing beside his bed, expressing none of the exasperation that Remus had begun to associate with the man.

"I'm sorry."

Sirius wears relief like a rainbow tracksuit. He sits on the edge of the bed. "I've been trying to talk to you for hours."

"I know." He doesn't have to wait long for their eyes to meet. "Sometimes it takes a while to come back."


	9. The Plot Thickens

Chapter 8, Part Two

Thank you to those who reviewed. ^-^ Please keep reviewing, though. I really appreciate your feedback and become unmotivated quickly when all I hear is silence =/

Anywayyy... here's the second part of chapter 8, which is more on the Sirius side of things. It's also 3x longer than usual. Please, please review! And thanks to those who did.

--

Remus had been parroting nonsense for two hours. Sirius sat perched on the table beside the bed, pen-in-hand, yet was in no condition to take down any observations.

He was just about to feel the ex-intern's forehead again when those eyes met his.

Finally.

"I'm sorry," Remus said. Sirius watched his sudden self-consciousness play out, watched him shuffle around beneath the sheet and avert his gaze a few times.

"I've been trying to talk to you for hours," he said.

"I know." Remus bit his lip, his eyes large. "Sometimes it takes a while to come back."

"From where?" Sirius asked.

"Je ne sais pas." He did not blink, nor look away.

"Dr. Black."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Lupin, what's going on?"

"I was thinking about...an old house. Did you read about it in my...in my file?"

"I know some things, yes," he said.

Remus sat up and moved so he could lean against the headboard, flattened the sheet to his lap. "I always forget."

"About the house?" Sirius remembered his pen.

"Mm." He looked up at Sirius again. "But I'd like to remember it, I think, more than anything else." He almost smiled then, but it was a sad attempt.

When the time came to leave Sirius left: he said goodbye to Remus, to his other patients. He did paperwork. Sirius refused his five o'clock vending excursion and finished a report on a schizophrenic-anorexic from the third floor instead. Joe reminded him that the workday was over an hour after it was over. It was dark, though, as Sirius drove home.

The staircase that stretched up to his flat was skinny and dark on most days, yet that week thicker shadows lay between steps and the walls on either side seemed to bend inwards. Sirius did not feel elegant as he climbed, hand on the rail. Office elegance, in general, did not follow him home. It came with the goings-in of bars and hospitals; it came with the weekend skirts that accompanied him up the narrow flight. It did not come with frustration.

He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and pulled his shirt over his head. He glanced at it and let it hang from his hand for just a moment before whipping it backwards, towards whatever. He groaned and dug his heels into his eyes.

"I should get a drink," he said. He walked to the phone and ignored the flashing red lights. He dialed Maria; a brunette he left in ambiguous silence since some night a month before. She didn't pick up.

He sat on the edge of the bed and straightened out his hair with one hand. Sirius dialed Joe.

-

"I just got home," he said, throwing back another. Joe sipped his martini with eyebrows raised.

"It's ten," he said.

"Yes," Sirius replied.

"Did they take away your salary, too?" He joked.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. "What else did they take away?"

"Your intern, Loony Lupin."

Sirius stared. "It was a joke," Joe relinquished. He waved at the bartender for another drink. The man had Sirius's glass full of oaky bourbon and back in his hand in a second. Sirius cocked his chin in thanks and lifted the glass to his nose. "Nice," he said.

Joe smiled. "Do you know why she didn't pick up the phone?"

"Because I've been ignoring her?" Sirius replied. He looked around the bar and found nothing but gaggles of college girls and soft-spoken talking suitjackets. "I wouldn't pick up if I were her. Or me," he added.

"I would," Joe said before going wide-eyed. "Well, you know what I mean."

"I am quite fine," Sirius said with a wince.

Joe twisted in his seat like a periscope. "Don't be so modest...looks like forty x folks in here agree with you."

"I don't want to know," Sirius said. He looked over his friend's shoulder at a few of the girls in question. He looked away when a few started to take notice. "And I don't want to babysit tonight."

Joe stared, sipping at his drink.

"What?"

His friend shrugged. "Nothing. Just contemplating the life of a brilliant hearthrob."

Sirius mocked tearing out his hair. "Bloody hell."

"Oh, stop doing that, I think Suzanne Summers over there's getting bothered." Joe slapped him on the back. "And...she's coming over here."

Sirius still had his hands in his hair and his mind on that bemused grin when he heard the chair screech out beside him. She held a glass of wine the color of her fingernails. "I've seen you here before," she asserted. Her gaze accosted him.

He must have nodded just as surely as she must have taken his silence to signify lust and/or visual satisfaction. "Do you work around here?"

-Do you?- Sirius thought, glancing at her pumps and somewhat ideal cleavage. "Mm. Laritus, the hospital nearby."

"A Doctor?" She raised her glass to her lower lip and seemed to kiss it.

"Dr. Black," he held out his hand, straightening his back.

She raised an eyebrow. "I've heard of you," she said.

Sirius could hear Joe mumbling behind him: "Of course you have," he said.

"Let me buy you a drink," Sirius acquiesced.

Joe was laughing quietly. She laughed, too. "Well, I have one of those..."

Sirius smirked: she was making this too easy.

-

He had only wanted to fuck.

Sirius hated the long process of getting a girl to leave; he loathed the re-dressing, the possible showering, the probable snack and suggestion for "more." It was a time of perpetual rejection, of being Dr. Black, Asshole. His "see you next week"s were rare artifacts, as were his "don't worry about it, you can sleep here"s. Donna, the blonde with a hidden acne issue received neither of these treasures. She left in a furious drunk tantrum and may or may not have fallen down the stairs before slamming the final door.

This, Sirius thought, was the problem with fucking.

He hadn't quite recomposed himself by the time he found himself in the throes of Laritus life the next day. The committee on What The Hell Is Wrong With Remus Lupin had settled in the conference room twenty minutes ago to efficiently accomplish its self-explanatory purpose. Three doctors, two pompous interns from Princeton, and a whiteboard made up said committee. Upon the board somebody had written "Obvious Trauma"and drawn a few superfluous bullet points beneath.

That was the extent of their progress.

Sirius glared around the table, doing his best to "let others talk."

Joe was acting rather severe for somebody who typically spent his work-hours as Mr. Popular in the break room. He sat with one elbow on the table, the flourescent light making his hair look more yellow than blonde. His pen jutted from his hand, pointing straight at Dr. Gillin's little face. "I know you spend a lot of time on the first floor, but come on, did you even read the DSM-IV?"

"I just think it's hasty to say that it's definitely PTSD. We have hardly had a chance to observe his behavior, and, Dr. Andrews--" (Sirius looked up, eyebrows raised.) "if -you- had read anything recently, you would know that we would need such evidence in order to claim such a thing!"

"Are you guys going to fight?" Sirius staged in a child-like whisper.

Joe continued. "Here," he pushed his notebook over to reveal a pile of manila folders and sticky-tagged papers. He began to slide them across the table. Sirius thought it quite too dramatic. "Notes from LeMon, notes on medication, transcripts from some progressive bullshit in Prague, a file from the college, and, oh, a fucking -book- of data from his middle and high school counselors."

After listening to the room breathe for a few, Sirius sighed.

"Done?" He tucked his hair behind his ear. "Look, it's almost four and I still haven't eaten. Can we just...not pull each other's hair right now?" No one said anything; he was pleased. Authority was his again. "There's no doubt about the PTSD as both an active contributor and an initial cause--

"A cause, not necessarily the only cause." Joe added, but quietly so.

"Of course." Sirius averted his eyes to his clipboard and watched as his pencil doodled a cloud, and then a kind of llama. "Do the..." He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Do the interns have any valuable input at the moment?"

Sirius did not feel particularly good about the other interns--Lupin's ex-colleagues--having their hands on his file (not for the sake of his reputation, not for -him-, but for the sake of the professional Reason that he was Sirius' patient), yet hands on it they did have. More than ever he hated pre-professional opportunism.

One of the Princeton boys spoke up amidst the crowd of them. "Dissociative amnesia!"

Sirius stared at him until the zeal visibly drained from the boy's face. "Yes. That would probably be associated with the PTSD, right?" Silence. "Right. Nonetheless, I think that's a...valid contribution, to say the most."

"Sirius, be encouraging," Joe whispered.

"I can't, it's not in me!" Sirius cleared his throat of the whisper and returned to Business. "What else?"

Dr. Gillin shook his head. "Schizophrenia, clearly, but the type is unclear to me--

Sirius waved his hand. "Disorganized, I thought that much was obvious...the broken speech, weird moods, inappropriate outbursts or lack thereof." His colleagues just stared at him. "Or undifferentiated. I'll admit that that too is a possibility."

"Are you unsure, Dr. Black?" Dr. Gillin said, his eyes sparkling.

Joe pointed his pen in the other man's face for the second time. Sirius pushed it down.

"You are unsure," The doctor confirmed. The Princeton boys looked smug.

Sirius knew how to keep his anger in check. He gathered his papers and made for the door. "PTSD, some bizarre schizophrenic type, some amnesia here and there and god knows what else." He stood at the threshold. "Sound good for now?"

Joe nodded.

"Sounds good to me, too."

Sirius made a beeline for the lounge, where he knew his dinner would be waiting.

-

"Sirius. No, Dr. Black: I'm telling you right now that I don't have merely what you think I have."

Remus's words from that bizarre night in his flat came back to him as he tore through his chicken parmigiana. Sirius felt his brain flatten and melt. He had not felt any sort of sucess from the meeting, but he knew that if he had, he would feel it die now.

"What do you think about Lupin?"

It was Joe whom asked him. He put down the sandwich and frowned.

Well, Remus was nice. He was quiet and sweet and had problems.

"I think he's a disaster," Sirius said. He paused. "But he's okay."

Remus was quiet and sweet and had problems. He had nice hair. He was quiet and sweet and perhaps a disaster, but he was not vile enough to send to ECT for years of cognitive decimation.

"You think he's okay?" Joe asked.

Sirius shrugged. Joe sat down across from him, not yet touching his own food.

"What's going on?"

Joe picked at nothing in particular. "McKneeley's thinking of sending him off."

"He's been here for two seconds," Sirius reminded him. "Two."

"I told him you'd think it was ridiculous."

Sirius was incredulous. "Not to be pretentious, but--

"You're the best," Joe finished. "I know. I told him that, too, but he said that something weird's up with him."

Sirius shook his head. "One, since when? Two, how the fuck would he know before I would?"

Joe did not seem to have any arguments. Sirius's eyes were furious.

"He said that..." Joe hesitated. "He said that Remus has been trying to do some sort of magic."

Sirius was unfazed. "And?"

Again, Joe did not respond.

"Does he realize that this is a bloody mental institute?"

"I said that, too. But then he--Sirius, wait a hot second, will you?"

Sirius was halfway out the door and his sandwich had just landed half-eaten in the can. "I'm not angry at you," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"I know," he replied. "I just don't want you to go into full attack-mode without hearing the story." He waited for Sirius to calm and sit down, although his posture indicated his flight-readiness.

"Tell me what happened."

-

Remus sensed Sirius.

He knew it was no time for him to be doing rounds: the sun was in full setting position outside the thick window, already tucking itself behind the buildings in the distance. Although he had only been a Laritus patient and an intern-in-residence for a few weeks, he knew Sirius' patterns. Remus got out of bed and straightened the sheets. And straightened his hair with his fingers. And hoped he didn't look like a crazy person.

A few days past Sirius had brought him some cream-coloured pants and a matching top, which was all made of linen and a bit too small for him. He had given him a set meant for a teenage boy, which was much too wide and much too short for Remus' lankiness. It was proper Laritus attire, he knew, but he still had not given in to wearing them (it would be such the affirmation).

Remus bit his lip and eyed the folded set on his desk. "It would be proper to wear what was given to you," he said. "And to speak in English." He was grateful for the room's lack of mirror.

You could create that mirror, Remus.

"I know," he said to himself. "Better not to know."

He heard Sirius move to the room across the hall. Remus hurriedly pulled the shirt over his head and shoved the pile of old clothes into the corner. "Speak English, act sane. Speak English, act sane. Speak English, act--

Remus felt his cheeks flush as the door pushed open to reveal Sirius, his nice ("nice?!" Remus thought) hair reflecting the light from the sunset. "Oh. Hi."

Suddenly, he became hyper-aware of his standing in the middle of the room.

"...Hi. Why are you standing there?" Sirius asked.

Remus didn't move. "Heard you coming. Figured I would...come, too."

"If you're trying to impress me it's not working in your favor," he said.

"I'm not," he lied.

"Don't lie."

"Okay."

"And don't cry."

"Won't."

As Sirius drew close to pass him to go to sit on the his desk, Remus tensed.

"Why don't you sit down," Sirius said. It was a command, not a question.

Remus sat.

"Is something wrong?" Remus stated. He watched Sirius's eyes become more silver than gray. The problem, he knew, was known. He sensed nervousness, perhaps fear, perhaps sadness.

"Oh," he breathed. Regret. It hit him in the chest, a solid weight, much heavier than the mere suggestions that were the others.

"What?" Sirius asked.

Remus stared.

"Remus, you must tell me what you're thinking."

Remus stared out the window.

-

Sirius sighed as he observed Remus watch the window with mock interest. It was time to be Dr. Black again.

"I heard that you've been practicing some...magic." Sirius knew how to not laugh, to not make fun, but Remus made the maintenance of his composure a non-task. His gaze was one of dark amber, severe and stony.

"I've also read that you...sense things." He watched Remus's expression sober. "That you..." Sirius tried to say it with a straight face but wasn't entirely successful. "...went to a school of wizardry...."

Remus shot him a look. "Yes, I did."

Sirius bit his tongue. "You realize that we have reports from your middle and high schools: non-wizarding schools, Remus."

The boy shrugged. "They're not real."

"How can you say that?" Sirius asked.

Remus seemed to assess him.

"He created them so that you would take me," Remus said. He spoke with confidence, as if he were letting loose an age-old secret that he had sworn, up until then, to refute.

"Why would 'he' do that?"

Remus looked away again. He murmured something in French. When Sirius did not respond, he shot him a look and then realized his mistake. "Sorry. I just...I was put here...in your world," he emphasized the "your," sharpening it, "because I was too different for ours. They were afraid of me," he added softly.

Sirius quite literally bit his tongue as he scribbled illegible notes. He looked up at Remus, considered his golden hair, the childish way he hugged his knees, the far-off look in his eyes. Electroconvulsive therapy seemed at once a requirement and unthinkable.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sirius said. His voice was a muffled echo to his own ears.

Remus brushed his bangs away from his eyes and rubbed his arms as if he were cold. "Don't tell anyone I told you," he said. "They'll take me back and send me to Azkaban if you do."

Sirius nodded. Azkaban must be another institution, he figured. He scrawled out the word in lazy cursive, ECT solidifying itself in his patient's future.

"Doctor," The voice was that of the shy intern, the one whom he'd toured about the hospital on the day the interns arrived. He was not surprised to find Remus in a state of near-tears again. He retracted his pen with a click.

"What?" Sirius asked.

Remus and Sirius both jumped when the door suddenly swung open. Sirius was always stunned by his friend's professional side: Joe walked to his side with a straight back and face, his gait uncharacteristically steady. "Good day, Remus," he said. If it were not for the seriousness of the preceding situation, Sirius would have laughed aloud at his patient's unblinking, stoic response.

"Hey," Joe said.

"Busy," Sirius said. "Important, I presume?"

The other nodded. He shot a look at Remus, and then at the door. Sirius followed him out.

"So..."

Sirius sighed. "Yes, you were right. He's crazy. Very. Everything you said was true."

Joe gave a slight sympathetic smile.

"Did he tell you about the school of wizards?" Sirius could not believe he just said that aloud.

Joe shook his head. "Sounds fun though; he only told us that he was a werewolf."

ECT it was, then.

"I take it he didn't get to that yet, huh?"

Sirius shook his head. His mouth was dry.

"He also has some pretty interesting theories about you," he added, almost as an afterthought. Sirius wanted to bang his head against the wall: leave it to him to inherit the most complicated, fruitless cases. "Oh, not like that," Joe corrected. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Like what?"

Joe paused. "I don't know; forget I said that."

"Sure. Go on." There was no time for irrelevance.

"Lupin told one of the night wards that he thinks you're magic, too."

Sirius ran his hand over his face and glanced quickly into the room. Remus sat on the bed as if he were still sitting on the desk, politely waiting for his return. The conversation, clearly, was not over.

He turned back to Joe. "Here," he handed him his notes. "Can you finish this out? I need to catch up on some work."

Sirius was halfway down the hall before he could even get out a word.

Remus looked to the door as Joe returned. "Where's Dr. Black?" He asked.

"You're scheduled for ECT first thing in the morning." Joe could not look up from the notepad, his eyes following the sloppy loops of an odd word Sirius had penned there. "I'm sorry."

--

Sirius stood before the whiteboard in the conference room, alone. A full mug of tea sat on the table amidst a sea of papers and colored folders. It was no longer steaming; it was probably not even warm.

The board presided over the room, an authority much greater than Sirius himself. It read:

Remus Lupin -Obvious Trauma (PTSD)  
-Schizophrenia (some type)  
-Amnesia (but who knows)  
-Murder/farm/early life -magic/werewolf/"Azkaban"  
-thinks I'm magic (?)

Options:

-

-

-

Sirius held a red marker down at his side, his arm a useless noodle beside him. He'd been staring at those bullets for ages, the light becoming dimmer and dimmer as time passed, the room becoming more somber as brightness decreased. He did not want to write it: he knew, on some base level, that it was wrong. ECT only hurt his patients, and he could think of not one patient more fragile and undeserving than Lupin.

He stared at the stark bottom half until he realized that he was only looking at defeat. He growled in frustration, pitching the marker across the room. Sirius was too angry to even chastise his own childishness.

* * *

Yay! Review if you please; as you can see, the plot is more or less taking off (finally), so it'd be ideal to know what you think. ^-^ Happy new year!


	10. The Plan

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I'm sorry it took so long for me to just sit down and write this! This is a reasonably sized chapter, so I hope it satisfies (at least in some way). It's summertime, so it is possible that we could see another update quite soon with a lot of Remus/Sirius interaction (as that is, essentially, what we'll have from here on out...).

* * *

Laritus 10

The Plan

Remus stood at the mirror in his room, that wasn't in his room. But it was. He looked thin, thinner than he had been in France, shorter than he felt weeks ago as he prepared himself for a life outside a hospital. His hair didn't seem to fall right, and it hardly covered the scratchmark scars on his forehead. Those were from years ago, years upon years.

He looked down at his legs through the glass of the mirror. They were too long, too skinny; yet they looked the same. The standard issue bed in the background made him look even taller, its low stature and distant position distorting the true proportions of his body. Maybe.

He lifted his wand, careful to keep it out of the viewing range of the doorside window. "I miss you," he whispered. He traced his torso with the tip of the wand against the mirror. It was just a light caress. He moved down his side, along his hip. He lifted the elegant instrument to reach the contours of his neck. He sighed.

Remus was wearing clothes, but the scars that marred his young body were always visible to him. He knew where they awaited his scrutiny: across his lower back, his abdomen, his thighs and chest. His eyes never ceased to seek those upon his forehead: one sidesweeping brush of his hair towards his ear would reveal their filigree pattern. He pulled up the corner of his shirt with his free hand, revealing the dark red swipe-marks near his hipbone. Remus locked eyes with his reflection and held the wand with both hands. "Still

there," he said. Not all his scars were as nice to look at as those thin, translucent scrolls above his eye.

"Maman..." He began, returning his wand to his pocket. "Rentrons chez nous; s'il vous plaît...rentrons chez nous."

The house stood in his memory as a cardboard box, or at least little more than a flimsy shell. The mirror showed no windows, no contents beyond a scent, a feel, and the color of the hardwood floors. There was a voice, or the memory of a voice, of someone's voice. The mirror gave no more answers than he had within him.

"Maman," he whispered. "Je ne me souviens pas. Je n'ai aucun souvenir."

* * *

"He's been standing in his room for a while, Sirius," Joe said around half a sandwich.

"Doing?" Sirius asked, feeling his frown intensify. He stared at his whiteboard, unimpressed by his scrawlings. It was hopeless. He unwrapped another round sandwich with one hand, shaking it out of the wax paper when it wouldn't release easily. He watched the top bun flop off and stared down at it in a huff.

"Your chicken and pickle delight is exposed," his counterpart stated.

"Doing?" Sirius repeated.

"Talking to a wall," Joe said as he watched his friend rebuild the sandwich. Sirius's curtain of hair fell in a way that made it seem much longer than it really was as he bent over the table (terrible posture, really). His eyes became as steely as his countenance was pathetic, dulled and twisted by the frustration caused by his lack of epic Lupin-curing (or even diagnosing) results. It was two in the morning.

"Great," he sighed. "Loony Lupin just keeps the bloody crazy coming, doesn't he?" Taking a bite of his sandwich, he added, "I am out of my mind for doing this."

"I think it's honorable," Joe said, though only after a slight pause that belied his statement. "Or something."

"Or something," Sirius echoed. He looked up at his friend. "I know this is bad. Don't reassure me."

"I wouldn't say that it's bad. You're the smartest guy here. People respect you and your psychotic decisions."

Sirius glared. "Thanks."

Joe was picking at his fingernails when a loud thud made him jump in his seat. Sirius must have tipped over the whiteboard, as it now was lying slack against the table. Sirius's hand was still poised as if he were still committing the act.

"You yelp," Sirius said, smirking.

"You're a fucking asshole." Joe frowned. "Stop grinning like a loon. You're an idiot."

"I know." He rested his chin on his hand. "And unprofessional."

"Good, keep going."

Sirius rolled his eyes, sat straight up, and hit the table with both hands. "Alright. This is what I'm going to do. I am going to put him up at my place."

"Like roommates," Joe clarified.

Sirius squinted and gritted his teeth. "On some distantly related, technical level, yes...something like that."

"Like roommates."

"Stop saying it," Sirius hissed. "I hate that."

"What? If you can't accept the disturbing reality that you're about to adopt as your own, you probably shouldn't do it."

Sirius sat back in his seat and rested one foot against the lip of it, his knee bent up towards his chest. Joe would continue to remind him of how awful this decision was unless he acted compassionate. He sighed. "I can't let him go through their treatment plans. I don't have a diagnosis, and I don't have anything personal against ECT-

"For the most part," Joe added.

"For the most part," Sirius admitted. "I just can't let that mind get decimated by idiots." He looked up at his colleague. "I just can't."

Joe nodded. "You feel guilty?"

"Do I feel guilty? About what?"

"You feel guilty," he said, shaking his head.

Sirius's lips formed a tight line. "I'm doing this," he said.

"Good."

* * *

"You wouldn't understand," Remus said to the woman across from him. "And you will think I am lying."

She sighed and referred to her notes. "You have mentioned Azkaban many times, according to our records. It must be somewhat important."

He glared at her, his jaw set, an unborn growl somewhere deep in his throat. "Just leave it," he snapped.

"How does this make you feel?" Her pursed lips combined with her blonde bob made her look like a Russian nesting doll: comical, disturbing, unreal. Her tone did not help.

"Je ne sais pas," he hissed.

"Do you realize when you speak French?"

Remus just stared at her.

"What does speaking in another language do? What does it mean for you?"

He closed his eyes, but she was still there when he opened them. "Where's Dr. Black?"

"He's busy with a patient right now, and this is not his time." She took a deep breath. "You could make this easier for me, Remus."

"Non."

"Just play along…I'm not here to hurt you. You know we aren't," she said. The woman put her clipboard on her lap. She tucked a pen behind her ear. "See? No notes."

Silence.

"You said that you were sent here because you were a werewolf. Is that true?"

"Why would I lie?" He wanted to sound angry, but his voice sounded small.

"Tell me about it," she said.

"I was bitten when I was young. You turn into a werewolf during the full moon, obviously. It's…a painful process," he said, wincing. "That's where my scars came from." He lifted up the corner of his shirt, then showed her the scars behind his bangs. "I attack myself, because I have to be locked up. They don't like werewolves," he added.

"Who doesn't?"

"Everyone. Except for Dumbledore. He sent me here, to help me…"

"How? How would being 'sent here' help you?"

Her interrogative prowess was beginning to show, Remus thought in disdain. He sighed. "I don't know; here they think I'm mad. There they thought I was a killer."

"How does that make you feel?" She asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know." He felt walls closing in around him, water rushing into his lungs, the tightening of his veins. The cracking of bone. "Can I go? Can you find Dr. Black?"

"You seem anxious," she said. "What changed?"

He flung himself back in his chair, eyes burning. "I don't know. Just…stop." He took a deep breath.

"I'll give you a second to collect your thoughts." She waited for only a few moments: Remus just sat still, breathing hard. "So. Did you have friends, before?"

"From Hogwarts?" Remus asked.

She appeared as though she wanted to smirk. "Sure."

"A few."

"Any girlfriends?" She asked.

"Not interested." He stared off into the corner of the room. "Can I go?"

"Remus," she started, "you're scheduled for ECT at eight this morning. If there's something you feel like you should say, something, you know, on the fringe of being lost…you should tell me." She re-crossed her legs. "I'm only here to help."

He locked eyes with her. "You can't."

* * *

"Would a snack help?"

The night nurse was a quiet lady, with big arms and a maternal demeanor. She had been sitting with Remus since the therapist left, although he had done nothing but lie in bed, his eyes fixed on something that wasn't there. She didn't expect a response from him, but would keep sitting anyway. She had nothing else to do.

"They don't believe anything I say," Remus said quietly. He rubbed his face into his pillow. "I…I just want to go back, even if it means Azkaban."

The nurse's eyebrows shot up upon hearing his voice. The odd word hardly phased her. "Maybe some pretzels? Some juice or chips? Dr. Black did say he would be right up…"

Remus shook his head. "He said that this kind of culture would be good for me and my condition, but he also told me about Dr. Black. Long ago, he mentioned him. He said that he could help me."

She nodded, unsure of her role.

"I don't know why."

"He's a brilliant man," she said. "And very famous."

Remus pulled the sheet up under his chin. "Well, yes. But not where I'm from. Or…well. I don't know exactly what I mean by that. But I didn't hear his name much until I gave up magic."

"Huh."

"Want to see my wand?" He asked. "I can't cast any spells anymore, but I have no one to share it with. No one believes me."

The nurse didn't even have time to consider what to say before Remus had, from somewhere, produced a beautiful, polished-looking wand. She raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get something like that?"

"Ollivander's," he said with a shrug. "You can't hold it."

"Okay." She watched him tuck it back under his pillow, amused by the rare smile on his face. His expression, however, soon turned inward.

"I think Dr. Black is coming," he said. She hadn't heard anything.

Remus was not in the least bit surprised when Sirius came through the door. He looked tired, but did not exhibit any signs of the exhaustion that should come from being at work in the early hours of a new day. The nurse, he thought, was similarly talented. Remus frowned, a sudden wave of frustration breaking upon him: he was not as tolerant of this hour of day.

"Dr. Black," he heard the nurse say as she passed the other on her way. "We should talk when you're done here."

* * *

Sirius stared at Remus, who stared straight back at him. "You have nice eyes," he said. "Weird color."

The ex-intern blinked. "They might have been green once."

Sirius scanned his irises for flecks of anything other than gold. "Yeah, maybe," he said.

"Why am I here?"

Sirius scratched at his chin as if he had a beard to stroke. "Well," he began. He looked at the clock above his office door, the books lining the walls, and back at the half-lidded patient across from him. It was four in the morning. "I'm offering you a deal. To be discharged."

Remus cocked his head. "Really?"

"There are a lot of reasons why, and no, I don't want to talk about them. But I can say that it is my professional opinion that you shouldn't be here anymore."

"The ECT."

Sirius shrugged. "I understand why it seems to be the only viable option; I don't necessarily think that it won't work either," he said. He locked eyes with Remus. "But on some level it doesn't feel right to me. Not for you. You're too...smart."

Lupin didn't say anything; he was small in the big leather chair across from the desk, his hair too pale, too unkept against the background of rows and rows of autumn-colored spines. Sirius had pulled him into the office just moments ago, having marched into his ward, to his room and his bedside, eyes frantic with frustration and some cavalier motive. Remus hadn't asked questions as he was led away from his bed, hands deep in the soft pockets of his standard-issue pants. Sirius had moved down each corridor with his jacket open and his loose hair swinging, more like a stray bullet than a strict intellectual. And, appropriately, he had yet to say anything of much substance at all.

Sirius rapped his fingers on his desk, twisting back and forth in his chair. "You are still my patient at this moment. In two hours you won't be. If you want to be discharged, you must promise to let me take care of you." He stopped moving and adopted a serious tone. "Even if you're not here."

"Where...will I be?"

Sirius took a deep breath and let it out all at once. "My flat."

A strange look came over Remus's face. "I like your cupboards."

Sirius stared wide-eyed off at some far-away thing. "What?"

"Nothing," Remus replied. "Will it be safe?"

"Of course," Sirius said, the psychoanalyst in him pushing the psychopharmacological diagnostician into the submissive role. "Why would it not be safe?"

Remus shrugged. "I don't know."

"Are you sure you don't know?"

"I think so."

Sirius started to nod, but Remus suddenly straightened his back, his amber eyes a little more alive. "I just," the ex-intern said, "I don't want anything to happen to you. Because of me."

"Why would something happen to me?" Sirius asked, an old expert at drawing out each word in the most neutral of tones.

"I don't know," he said again.

"Do you really not know?"

"I can't say." His voice was soft, as if he were approaching an angry secret. "It's not the English, either."

"So it isn't a problem with the language," Sirius reiterated.

"No, Doctor," Remus said. "It's a problem with place."

Remus looked to his left, then to his right. He gestured at nothing in particular, his eyes alight. "There is no way to describe to you what happened to me, or what might happen. I can't tell you where I'm from, or...how I got here." Remus looked down at his lap, brow creased. He rubbed at his thigh as if anxious. "I can't tell you about my family, my house, my condition. Nothing makes sense."

There was a significant pause. Sirius was surprised to hear himself talking. "Sometimes things don't need to make sense." He rested his elbow on the desk and held out his palm, as if holding a tray of drinks at a restaurant. "Look here." He lowered his hand so Remus could see. "I'm showing you something."

"Your hand?"

"No. Tell me why someone would show someone else this," Sirius said.

"To...demonstrate waiting tables?" Remus answered. "Or exhibit a watch, or a turtle..."

"Keep going," Sirius said, his arm still bent.

Remus took a second. "I am being trained at a restaurant, or at a store. You are showing me how to hold something in order for someone else to see it. The thing could be heavy or delicate, alive, desirable, or ugly. You are showing me how to make something look like more than it is." He paused, and looked up at Sirius. "You are showing me nothing."

"I am showing you nothing," he said. "I am showing you a motive, I am showing your reason, your logic."

"You are showing nothing," Remus said again, "but you are showing me myself." He raised an eyebrow and cocked his chin up at the doctor. "Will you tell me what the point of this is?"

Sirius smiled. "Nothing makes sense," Sirius reminded him. He didn't let Remus's frustrated retort come to fruition. "I'm not jerking you around, now. That's what you said. But what I just did didn't make sense." He relaxed his arm, his shoulder now aching. "But you made it make sense, and I am making it make sense. We made nothing into something, based on a context nonexisting, out of motives and our own memories. Why the turtle? Why the watch? Before you rationalized the set as a whole, these are the things you found first. It didn't make sense, but it did at some point. But now look," he held out his hand again, still flat. "It's just nothing. There never was anything, nor was there any real reason for there to be a watch, or a turtle. There is no restaurant here, no server-patron relationship between us."

"But in a way there always was," he argued. "there could never be nothing because it was a problem of place. It is nothing, here, but it is not here anymore. Maybe it never was."

"Or maybe it's both," Sirius said. "You tell me that you can't explain your nothing to me because you don't have the proper place or the things that make it. But how is the house not here when it stays with you? Why does your past dominate you if it is exiled and alien?" He looked at his own hand and winced. "This is by far one of my lamest of demonstrations."

"We're only in an office," Remus said. "It doesn't make sense. It makes sense." He started to smile. "This is convoluted."

Sirius stretched his arm and pressed his thumb over his fingers, causing a series of little cracks. "I had to run with it; forgive me. Lousy example aside, will you do what I say?' Sirius pushed himself up to stand.

"Oui." Remus stood.

"Alright then," he said. He handed Remus a clipboard as he turned down his collar with his other hand. "Sign for your discharge, I'll work the rest out."

Remus was in the middle of signing when Sirius marched straight out of his office, leaving the door flung behind him. He placed the forms on the desk, unsure of whether to sit down or follow him out. So he just stood there, listening to Sirius's footsteps echo down the hallway. "Bloody hell," he heard. A string of curses faded away with his footsteps.

Remus slowly sat back down, his eyes upon the signed papers (then the large desk, the dark window, the empty chair). There was just the ticking of the clock against the mechanical hum of the computer in the wideness of the room. He pointed his toes to the floor and rocked the chair back, held it, and released. And he did it again.


End file.
